


Sounds of People

by epne



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crying, Cunnilingus, Depression if you squint, F/M, France - Freeform, Language Barrier, Loneliness, Oral Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Rey is French, Smut, Songfic, Unhappy Ending, Unsafe Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, and Ben is exactly the sort of dumbass who would move to France without speaking French don't @ me, this is just 7.8k words of Ben being lonely ft. smut, this was not supposed to be a coffee shop AU I don't know what happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-16 07:44:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17545565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epne/pseuds/epne
Summary: And I don't want your pityI just want somebody near meGuess I'm a cowardI just want to feel alright*Maybe Paris is the city of love, but what would Ben know about that? He’s in Reims which hasgotto be the city of the unloved.





	Sounds of People

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [Nobody](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qooWnw5rEcI&frags=pl%2Cwn) by Mitski but more specifically [this interview](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G30AtDEc5Do&frags=pl%2Cwn).

When it came right down to it, it was the logical thing to do. The job paid significantly more than Ben’s position in San Francisco, it was a good learning opportunity, and it was France for fuck’s sake. It had been hard to process when he’d first been offered the position—a two year contract in Reims with a guarantee of his job back in the States when it was over—but he’d have been mad to turn it down. 

Ben had always wanted to travel but hadn't ever managed to _quite_ get around to it. He’d gone straight from high school to university to the professional world and just kind of assumed that travel would be something that happened in between, but it hadn’t. And the thing about traveling is that it doesn’t just fall into your lap like a job given to you by one of your mother’s friends. 

Except that it did. Wrapped neatly in the promise of an excellent networking opportunity and tied with a ribbon of the chance to explore Europe. 

The first few weeks after his arrival Ben had managed to fool himself into thinking that it was just temporary. He’d told himself that he didn’t know his colleagues well enough yet to form friendships and that as he settled into his new life things were sure to get better.

It’s been almost four months and so far they’ve only managed to get worse.

Ben had always thought that he was a solitary sort of person, citing the facts that valued his alone time and was never one for large group settings. Moving to France though had quickly disproved his theory. As it turns out, Ben likes being solitary but only when he’s in control of it. Only when he has the option of not being alone, the option of meeting up with Poe to sit in relative silence together or the option of listening to Hux recount his latest Tinder mishap. At first Ben had tried his best to keep up with his friends back home, but the timing was never right and their schedules were seldom compatible. 

If Ben were counting he'd be able to tell you that he hasn't heard anything from either of them in almost nine weeks. But he'd only be able to tell you that if he were counting. Which he's not. 

The long and the short of it is that it’s been four months and Ben is lonely. 

Not the regular sort of lonely that occupies your time with moping for a little bit but evaporates after a few days either. Ben is the sort of lonely that carves out a space in your chest cavity and fills it with stones that rattle around as you walk just to remind you of how empty you are. The kind that can’t be chased away with a phone call to your mother, a good book, or throwing yourself into work. The kind that takes up so much space in your life you begin to wonder if genuine human connection is something that even exists at all. 

Ben’s no shrinking violet though, he takes charge and fills his life with routines in the hopes of speeding up the rest of his contract. 

When he's not working he jams his head full of music or tv shows, or any sort of chattering media he can find because he’s learned that if he can’t think he can’t wallow. And when he’s at work he puts in long hours and tries to let the projects consume him. 

Though his office is an ‘English friendly space’ most of his co-workers speak exclusively in French and alienate him from their social circles. It’s okay though because Ben has learned by now not to expect anything from them anyways, and at least they're predictable. Plus, he figures that being scoffed at at work is better than spending time alone in his apartment. A space that happens to be just small enough to remind him that he doesn’t have a girlfriend reading quietly in the next room, or friends watching the tv that’s on in the living room as he goes through the motions of preparing dinner.

All in all during the week he copes. Maybe not well, but it gets the job done.

Each weekend however lasts an eternity; there are simply too many hours in the day. 

Ben has routines for the weekends too, of course, but they always seem to stretch on and on which grates at his nerves and wears him thin. On weekends Ben tries to sleep as much as he possibly can, when he finally wakes he’ll go to the gym and blast his music into his eardrums as loudly as he can bear. He then takes up his post at the cafe, L’Oiseau Étoilé, down the street from his apartment and tries to waste as many hours as he can doing work that he’s stealthily squirreled away throughout the week. 

Sometimes he has to leave L’Oiseau Étoilé earlier than he would like to though if things get too painful there. See, it seems to be a popular spot for young couples and groups of friends to socialize. The groups of people chat, and laugh, and touch each other with a practiced ease that he is bitterly jealous of, and sometimes it all just gets to be too much for Ben who’s last human touch came from Logan in human resources when they had bumped elbows as they’d both reached for the water pitcher during a staff meeting. 

Ben knows that he should probably just switch cafe’s, choose a quieter one that’s farther away from the university, but he can’t. There’s something that keeps him there. Rather, someone. 

She’s an employee of L’Oiseau Étoilé and she’s, _well_ , she’s beautiful. She’s young, maybe twenty, and her actions reflect her youth. She hops around the little cafe like sparrow jumping from branch to branch when she clears tables and she’s never without a smile as she tests out different patterns to adorn the tops of her lattes with. She’s got a kind face that’s spattered with freckles and sometimes when the light hits the slope of her nose just right she’s so mesmerizing that it's almost blinding. She doesn’t do it often, but Ben waits with bated breath for the days when she wears her hair in braids. They remind him of home, of his mother really, not in a weird way, they’re just familiar, comforting. 

Don’t get him wrong, Ben doesn’t even know her name and he’s never actually spoken to her beyond ordering food and coffee. But in the sea of loneliness that he’s drowning in her kind smiles as he fumbles through his order in poorly conjugated French are just enough to keep him afloat.

It’s probably creepy. In fact, it’s _definitely_ creepy, but his most frequent daydreams are of her. Nothing overtly strange, they’re not even sexual fantasies, they’re downright mundane, boring even. 

When Ben's loneliness threatens to crush him like grain against the gristmill he fantasizes about how bright her smile would be as he walked though the door after a long day at work, or how her brown eyes would gleam as she told him about her day, or about the way her ponytail would swing as they walked hand in hand along the river together. Endless pedestrian fantasies that are not weird at all, which Ben thinks probably makes them more disturbing than if he just wanted to fuck her. 

On weekends, after he’s finished with L’Oiseau Étoilé, he heads home for a night full of sitting in front of the tv staring blankly at it until the screen gives him a headache. At which point he crawls into bed and wraps his arms around a pillow that does a poor job of pretending to be a human, but not before opening his bedroom window. 

The window is an important part of his weekend routine. Ben lives near the city center and it’s comforting to listen to the heartbeat of Reims as he falls asleep. On weekends Reims’ ECG is exciting, mostly comprised of young people going out for a night on the town. They run drunk down the streets, scream and laugh with their friends, sing badly at the tops of their lungs, and Ben loves it all.

He finds it the easiest to fall asleep when a group of people walk right underneath his window. That way he can pretend that he’s there with them, that he can understand the words that they’re saying, and that he’s a participant instead of an uninvited eavesdropper.

In the dark of his room, with the stones quiet in his chest, it’s nice to hear the sounds of the city, of the people, to pretend that he’s a part of something.

Months pass and seasons change and Ben clings to his routines like a lifeline. 

It’s on a Saturday that they first start to betray him. 

Ben’s been listening to the passersby on the street through his window for the past three hours and still hasn’t managed to be lulled to sleep. He’d slept in until eleven this morning and he supposes that his body is at it’s limit for rest and is therefore performing something of a protest. 

He’s been considering it for well over an hour now and wrestles with the idea for a moment longer before rolling out of bed, pulling off his pyjamas, and shrugging on some clothes. It’s not like there’s any harm in it anyways, but by this point he’s just so used to worrying about everything that he agonizes over this decision as well. Before he can change his mind, Ben grabs his jacket off of the hook by the door and heads out into the cool Saturday night breeze. 

Though it’s late Reims, like Ben, is still awake.

As he walks aimlessly through the flagged streets he picks up on the low pump of the bass from a nightclub and subconsciously corrects his course to follow it. He doesn’t make the connection that the music is getting louder until he’s faced with the entrance of the club from across the street, its presence almost shocks him. But then, as he stands there silently, his hands shoved deeply into his pockets for warmth, he feels soothed by the sight of it.

Objectively it looks like a seedier place, the black paint of its storefront looks old and chipped, and the sign above the door has more than one of its letters missing, but to Ben likes it. Drunk patrons stumble in and out with their hand stamps and they remind him that real people exist. 

Not the Play-Doh people he encounters at work with their meticulously pressed shirts or even those who frequent L’Oiseau Étoilé who are putting on a performance for the world of what’s expected of them. But _real_ people, people who trip over their own feet, and wave lit cigarettes around so animatedly that their companions have to take them away for fear of being burned accidentally, and even people who barely make it out into the street before puking up the entire contents of their stomachs. 

Ben stands there for a long time watching. 

At one point a group of giggling girls walks past him on their way to a taxi and one of them stops right in front of him and says: “Salut toi! Bon sang, je crois que je viens juste de tomber amoureuse, là.” With a serious nod before her friends drag her away and into the cab. He doesn’t know exactly what she had said to him, _hi_ , and then something that she’d thought, but it just feels nice to be seen. Even if it was by a girl so drunk that she can’t seem to fasten her own seatbelt. 

By the time most people have trickled out of the club Ben’s toes are cold. With a shrug and a sigh he begins the trek back to his apartment. He’s doesn’t know if he’s any more tired than he was when he set out tonight, but in a novel sort of way he feels satisfied. 

The city’s much quieter now, but there are still a few stragglers shuffling up and down the streets laughing or shouting occasionally. 

“Olivier!” A woman’s voice shouts from down the road.

When he hears footsteps coming up behind him he makes an effort to veer to the edge of the sidewalk so that whoever it is will be able to pass him without issue. 

Ben shoves his hands deeper into his pockets as he ambles home. The city’s not bright enough to blot out the stars tonight and he searches for Cassiopeia, but this isn’t the sky that he’s used to so he can’t find her. This unsettles him, serving as a stark reminder of just how far away from home he really is. 

He can hear the stones as they begin to rattle around in his chest again.

“Olivier!” The woman’s voice shouts again, louder this time, accompanied by the clomp of heels on pavement. “Attends-moi!” He hears breathily before the owner of the voice grabs his arm, stopping him in his tracks. 

Before Ben is really able to process what’s happening two cold hands grab either side of his neck as the woman pulls him down to kiss him on both cheeks. She holds his face next to hers after she’s done with her greeting.

“Je suis terriblement désolée mais s'il te plait tu dois m’aider.” She murmurs into his ear.

Ben doesn’t know what she’s saying, something about _sorry_ and _help_ , if he had to guess he’d say that she’s pleading with him, but Ben can't say for certain. He can’t even begin to think about what the rest of it means because he’s overwhelmed by the feeling of her small hands spanning the back of his neck and the smell of jasmine that wafts off of her shiny brown hair.

He doesn’t get another moment to consider it either because less than a second later she’s moving his face again, this time to kiss him fully on the mouth. Ben flounders as her lightly chapped lips press against his, he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do, his hands are still clenched in his pockets and his eyes are wide open.

He should stop this.

He needs to stop this.

He just needs to push her away and run or something. Easy. But then she presses herself more fully up against him and licks his bottom lip and he could cry it feels so nice to be touched. No one can really blame him then for shutting his eyes and getting sucked into the moment, for opening his mouth to her and wrapping his arms around her lower back to pull her in. 

In that quiet moment there’s nothing else in the world to Ben but the woman whose face he hasn’t even seen, the gentle slide of her tongue against his, and short fingernails pressing into his scalp.

The woman pulls away from him after an amount of time that Ben isn’t quite able to measure and takes a step back as she looks up at him almost guilty. 

As she comes into focus she looks like something out of a movie. Her hair is haloed by the orange glow of the streetlight, her lips are flushed a bright raspberry that stand out against her lightly tanned skin. And her eyes, her eyes gleam an amber so bright that they almost hurt to look at. It’s the eyes that get him, the eye’s that make him realize that he knows them, knows _her_. It’s the girl, the one from L’Oiseau Étoilée, the focal point of his daydreams.

He’s only just come to this realization when she grabs him by the arm and practically drags him down the street after her. 

“Qu'est-que tu fais?” He demands, his French is unsure, shaky at best. Ben’s coworkers have taught him to hate speaking the language, what with their relentless teasing and endless jabs at everything from his accent to his choice of words. But for now he sets that insecurity aside because he’s so perplexed by the whole situation that his head is spinning. 

_What the hell is she doing?_

“Juste...” she glances behind her shoulder nervously before picking up the pace. “Marche avec moi pour un moment, s’il te plaît.”

Sure, okay, yeah, walk with her. Ben can walk with her. He can definitely walk arm in arm down the street in the wee hours of the morning with the object of his daydreams after she’d just kissed the shit out of him with no explanation at all. Ben can do that, it’s a completely normal thing to do. 

They walk silently for a few blocks, her gait at almost a run as Ben struggles to keep up, a change of pace for him since usually he’s the one people have to keep up with. 

His lips feel like they’re burning from where he can feel the ghost of hers pressed against them.

“Désolée.” The woman sighs as she finally comes to a stop. “Il y avait ce type dans la discothèque qui, visiblement, ne comprenait pas la signification du mot 'non'. Quand j'ai voulu partir il m'a suivie. Alors je lui ai dit que mon petit ami, Olivier, m'attendait dehors. Bien sûr, je n’ai pas de petit ami, et surtout pas un qui s’appelle Olivier...” She speaks quickly, too quickly for Ben to catch most of what she’s saying. “Et- _oh_ ,” she cuts herself off. “Mais je te connais.” 

She knows him. 

“L’Oiseau Étoilé.” Ben offers.

“Oui,” she nods with a coy smile. “Et tu ne parles pas français...” She nods a few more times to herself.

“Oui,” Ben agrees, he does not 'parle français', at least not with any level of skill. “Je ne, uh, une petite peu? Ce n’est pas très bon.”

The woman smiles more fully at him now, the same way she does at her work, the same way that provides the fodder for his fantasies.

“Je m’appelle Rey.” She says slowly holding out her hand. 

_Rey._

Not that anyone asked him, but Ben thinks that the name suits her. She’s been almost the only source of light for him throughout his entire time in France, and based on tonight’s events, she’s obviously fiery. 

“Je m’appelle Ben.” He replies, shaking her small hand firmly. The contact sends a shiver down his spine, probably because it’s the most genuine human contact he’s had in a long time. He holds her hand for a beat too long, but hey, he’s not the one who’d gone up to her and shoved his tongue down her throat, so it’s probably allowed. 

“There was a man.” Rey speaks with a heavy accent. “When I was in the, the _discothèque_.” She gestures in the direction of the club. “He was wanting to follow me.” Her words are slow, spoken with an uneven rhythm, but Ben doesn’t care even a little bit. “So I kisses you so he thinks you are my boyfriend. Sorry.” Her cheeks are flushed a furious red by the end of her explanation and Ben curses her silently because if her smile was enough to inspire hundreds of daydreams in him well her bush is enough to inspire thousands. 

“C’est d'accord. Je comprends.” And it really is okay, men are so shitty that sometimes Ben wonders why women even put up with them at all. Plus, this is the probably the best he’s felt since his arrival in France. He knows that this is not an ideal situation for Rey at all so he hates himself a little for feeling good about it, but it's nice to feel needed.

“Je peux marcher à votre maison?” Ben’s eighty percent sure he just offered to walk her home.

“Oui. Merci.” Rey nods, peering up at him from under her eyelashes and Ben can’t help but admire the way the light from the storefront they’ve stopped in front of highlights the curve of her cupid’s bow.

They walk the eight blocks to her building in a comfortable sort of silence, their footsteps echoing down the empty streets. And it’s _nice_. The just walking, the having someone near him, the sound of her breathing. Ben mentally berates himself for being a coward, maybe he could build a friendship here, maybe he should be trying to talk to her, but it’s just nice to feel her presence next to him, to feel the warmth radiating off of the arm closest to him, to feel _alright_ for the first time in months. 

He stands back from the door as Rey lets herself into her building, as not to scare her, and waves his goodbye before heading home. 

As soon as Ben’s head hits the pillow he’s out like a light.

He doesn’t wake until late in the afternoon the next day and ends up skipping is regular visit to L’Oiseau Étoilé. It’s probably better that way anyways, in the stark light of day he feels weird about the whole ordeal. Though he doesn’t think he acted incorrectly some part of him is deeply embarrassed by the entire situation. 

Ben plods through the rest of his week in a normal sort of fashion, routine after routine. His encounter with Rey was enough to stave off the loneliness for a few days, but by Wednesday he can hear the stones rattling around in his chest again. 

Saturday eventually comes, because, you know, time is linear and all that, and Ben doesn’t know what to do. He sleeps in for as long as he can—ten thirty—and makes his way to the gym, but he breaks his routine after that. Instead of going to L’Oiseau Étoilée he heads home and takes an excessively long shower. A big part of him wants to visit the cafe but he just knows it'll end in a wholly awkward encounter if he does. 

So Ben stays at home. 

Well, he stays at home until after about two hours when he comes to the conclusion that awkwardness is better than loneliness. And with that thought firmly in mind he slips his jacket on and wraps a scarf around his neck before setting off.

It’s almost dusk by the time Ben arrives at L’Oiseau Étoilé and Rey is clearing tables. Ben doesn’t know why he does it, but he pretends not to see her even though cafe is entirely too small for that to be at all possible. Instead of smiling at her, or waving, or nodding, or really acting like a normal fucking person at all Ben walks up to the counter and orders a coffee from the pretty Asian girl behind the register. He then settles into a booth at the back of the shoppe and tucks into his work without acknowledging Rey at all. Because he is an idiot. 

Ben chews on his lip, he could go up to her now, she doesn't look busy, she’s chatting with her co-worker and laughing with her whole body. He could just say hi, bonjour, salut, _anything_. But no. It’s too weird now, right? He’s left it too long. He worries his bottom lip some more and frowns at the papers laid out in front of him. _God_ , he really is stupid. In the end he decides to stay put redoubling his focus on his work. That is, until somebody clears their throat next to his table.

He looks up from his papers with a start, almost knocking his empty mug over in the process.

“Bonjour.” Rey smiles, her lips twisted up in an ironic sort of way. 

Ben swallows thickly, “salut.” He suddenly doesn’t know what to do with his hands. Do they look stupid resting on the table? Should he wrap them around his mug? No, it’s empty, that would be dumb. Maybe he should put them in his lap that way-

“C’est pour vous.” Rey interrupts his chaotic thought process, gesturing to the plate she’s holding. “Biscuit au citron.”

 _For him_ , she’s brought a pastry for him. Something with pumpkin. Or lemon. He’s not sure. 

“Un cadeau. En remerciement pour l’autre nuit.” Rey clarifies. 

Ben really does not need a thank you gift, it’s not like he’d had anything better to do that night anyways. But who turns their nose up at a free pastry? Certainly not Ben. 

“Merci.” Ben smiles shyly. He’s never particularly liked showing off his teeth, but something about her wide eyes and honest face compel him to. 

“De rien.” She says simply, brushing her hand lightly against the back of his as she sets the plate down. He hopes that she doesn’t notice the goosebumps that breakout all over his arm at the contact.

Ben watches her, he hopes subtly, as she walks away. He can’t help it, there’s just something about her. She captivates him. The way her white blouse contrasts her lightly freckled skin is wonderful in a way that Ben will never be able to explain. If he were an artist he thinks that he’d use her as the inspiration for a piece—endless pieces. He’s not an artist though, so instead he just steals glances at her once in a while and tries to commit every part of her to memory. 

The pastry turns out to be lemon, and the afternoon passes by more quickly than any Saturday before it. He’s just adding notes to the last document in the file he’s working on when he notices it. 

The quiet. 

In fact, it’s not just quiet, it’s silent. 

Ben looks up sharply at the realization to find the cafe completely empty save for Rey. She’s reading a book in a chair near the front windows with her coat on and her backpack resting near her foot. The tables all gleam with a freshly wiped down quality and the coffee machines sit unplugged behind the counter.

Ben scrambles to his feet shoving his papers hastily into his satchel before looking at his watch. Eight twenty three. He’s not sure what time L’Oiseau Étoilé closes, he’s never stayed late enough to find out, but by the looks of things probably sometime before eight _fucking_ twenty three. 

Rey looks up at the commotion but she doesn’t say anything at all. Just bookmarks her novel and raises an eyebrow at him.

“Je m’excuse,” he apologizes. He can feel heat crawling it’s way up the sides of his cheeks to the tips of his ears as he fumbles with the clasp of his bag.

Rey shrugs, tucking her book into her backpack. ““Ce n’est pas grave. Pas après ce que tu as fait pour moi l’autre soir, et tu avais l’air occupé.”

He understands the first part, _it’s okay_ , but the second part is a mystery to him. He tells her as much as they both head for the door.

“Me,” Rey says, “I feel bad for the last night last week. So it's okay.”

“You don’t have to feel bad.” Ben assures her. They’re only standing a couple of feet apart now. 

“Okay.” Rey nods, as if to herself.

“D’accord.” Ben lips twitch up into something of a smile. 

“Je me demandais…” Rey takes a small step forward, and then another, before resting the hand that’s not holding her backpack on the fabric that covers his chest. She slides her hand up to the nape of his neck—an echo of what she had done almost a week ago—with slow movements as if giving him the opportunity to pull away.

He doesn’t.

Rey isn’t wearing heels like she was last Saturday so she has to go up onto the tips of her sneaker clad toes to reach his mouth. The angle is a little awkward, but the kiss is perfect. It’s just a simple press of skin on skin but it makes the ends of Ben’s fingers tingle from where they’re clenched at his sides. She does it again, with careful movements, before dropping down onto her heels and pulling away. As she begins to disentangle her hand from his hair Ben is jolted into action.

His bag falls to the floor with a dull thud as he cups her face in his broad palms to kiss her properly and as his tongue presses into her mouth he hears her discard her backpack in favour of slipping her other hand into his hair as well. They stay entwined with each other like that for a while, just exploring, until Rey eventually presses him up against the door. Ben groans as Rey unzips his jacket to slide one of her hands under the hem of his shirt with a tentative touch. He's far too lost in the moment to even begin to feel embarrassed that the simplicity of their encounter is enough to have him half-hard in his pants. 

At the encouraging noise she traces her fingers down his treasure trail until she encounters the top of his jeans. She then stops kissing him to work on the button she finds there. The bell attached to the door rings quietly as Ben closes his eyes and lets his head fall back against it in response. Because, _fuck_. 

When he opens his eyes to look at her again she’s on her knees in front of him and Ben doesn’t think he’s ever seen a more appealing sight in his life. Flyaways from her ponytail frame her face and she’s still fully wrapped up in her peacoat but when she bites her lip Ben is absolutely certain that she’s the sexiest thing in the world. 

He says as much but can tell that she doesn’t understand him.

“D'accord?” Rey asks. 

Yes, it’s okay. It’s _so_ okay. But that’s not what comes out of his mouth. “Non.” He shakes his head no and hastens to rebuttons his pants. 

Before he has time to elaborate Rey clambers to her feet, pulling away from him. “Oh,” she covers her mouth with one hand briefly. “Je suis terriblement désolée. Que je suis stupide.” Her face is white as a sheet as she puts even more distance between them. “J'avais l’impression que… Je suis tellement bête.” She drags both of her hands down the sides of the now pale skin of her cheeks.

Ben doesn’t understand everything she’s saying but he gets the gist. “Non. Uh, c’est d'accord.” He wracks his brain as he searches for his next words, which is a hard thing to do because most of the blood that’s _supposed_ to be in his brain is currently in his cock, and his French is also shit under normal circumstances anyways. “C’est d’accord! Pas ici.” He gestures to the windows that line the storefront. “Je ne suis pas un, uh, exhibisionist?” Ben tries to accent the last word so that it sounds sort of French. 

Rey nods and clears her throat, her eyes dart around the room and it’s clear to him that she doesn't know what she’s supposed to do next. 

“Je vie proche.” He wants to tell her that he lives just down the road, but he doesn’t know how to articulate that so telling her that he lives nearby will have to suffice. 

“Oh,” Rey blinks at him as she tilts her head to the side in a way that Ben finds endlessly endearing.

“Si tu veux aller la?” _If you want to go there?_ “Avec moi?” _With me?_

Rey smiles then, letting out what Ben thinks is a relieved laugh. “Je pense que c’est plutôt évident après ce que je viens de faire.” 

She speaks too fast for Ben to catch the words but she approaches him again so Ben takes that as a good sign at least. 

Rey must see the confusion written on his face because she clarifies, “oui.”

With that, they gather their belongings and Ben waits outside as Rey shuts off the lights and locks up the cafe. He’s still half-hard in his pants as they walk down the street but he makes it work as best as he can, motivated by the press of Rey’s arm and the smell of jasmine. 

They discard their jackets and bags in Ben’s front hallway and in the months he’s been in France Ben’s never once been thankful for his loneliness but he is now because it is the sole reason for the cleanliness of his apartment. 

Rey leaves him behind as she toes off her shoes and walks curiously forward into his living room. 

Ben tracks her movements as she weaves herself into the fabric of his life. A part of him screaming that she belongs here amongst his things, that she looks too _right_ tracing the framed picture of his parents with a slender finger to ever leave. 

He thinks that he could watch her silently like this forever, hell, he’s had enough practice over the last seven months. But he doesn’t. Instead Ben walks over to her and offers her a hand, which she accepts, before tugging her in the direction of his bedroom. 

Rey runs her palms gently over his back as he flicks on the light and he’s suddenly overcome with the urge to cry at the tenderness of the act. Before the emotion has a chance to overcome him, he spins around and kisses her hungrily, anchoring his hands at her lissom waist. 

Rey gives as good as she gets in a fashion Ben has quickly gotten used to and soon he's pulling the elastic out of her hair as she urges him out of his shirt. 

The pair undress quickly with little finesse and Ben’s mouth goes dry at the sight of Rey in just her pale yellow panties. Rey, apparently, is not fond of bras and Ben can’t honestly say that he minds. Her mouth is a bitten red, her hair is mused and sticking up in places due to his ministrations, and Ben can see the outline of how wet she is through her underwear. 

She’s a vision. 

As he maps her out with his eyes, she does the same. And apparently she likes what she sees because she traces the contours of his abs with carefully before pulling his mouth back down to hers. Ben takes the opportunity to cup the soft flesh of her breasts in his hands and thumb at her nipples as he walks them backwards. 

They fall back onto the firm mattress and Rey maneuvers herself on top of Ben. One of her thighs presses in between his legs and if she couldn’t tell he was hard before, there isn’t any way for her to miss it now. 

She cups him through his briefs and massages him delicately as their tongues continue their desperate slide. Ben feels so tightly wound that he could cum from this alone, and it’s far too soon for that, so he rolls them over until he’s on top of her. 

He kisses down the side of her neck with little skill, sucking hickeys into the skin that covers her clavicles before licking into the hollow between them. 

Rey groans, threading her fingers through his dark hair and guiding him further down towards her left breast which he eagerly sucks into his mouth, scraping at the nipple with his teeth. She curses under her breath as Ben rolls her other nipple between his fingers. When Ben is certain that she has the most perfect set of tits in the world he kisses his way down her taut stomach to the apex of her thighs. 

He settles himself fully between her legs before he fits his fingers under her panties and shoves the thin strip of lace to one side to reveal her aching cunt. He pauses then to look up at her and she must see the question in his eyes because she nods rapidly a couple of times and reaches down to brush his fringe away from his forehead. 

Ben doesn’t need telling twice, he spreads her folds with both of his thumbs and licks into her greedily. She sighs loudly at the contact and Ben can feel her pussy spasm as she tightens her fingers in his hair. He repeats the motion until he’s satisfied that he’s licked up all the wetness she has to offer before setting to work on her clit. 

Rey arches her back as he wraps his lips around it, carefully pushing the hood back with his teeth. A string of breathy noises fall from her mouth as he sucks on the little nub while flicking at it with his tongue, and he can’t help but smile against her as she digs one of her heels into his back. 

This, this is what Ben loves. The head rush he feels when he gets to reduce someone like Rey to a cursing quivering mess because of his actions. Only his. 

He rutts himself into the mattress at the heedy thought, hoping to get some sort of relief for his throbbing cock as he continues his barrage on her clit. 

It becomes obvious that she’s close when the leg that’s wrapped around Ben’s back spasms and she starts babbling in a way that Ben knows doesn’t make sense—even from his position of limited French. Ben takes it as encouragement, flicking faster at her clit as he slides one hand under her ass to change the angle. His jaw aches but it's irrelevant. The only thing that matters to him are the noises that Rey is making and her messy cunt. He slides one thick finger into her and then another and when she starts clenching wildly around them he knows that it’s all over for her. She comes noisily, shouting unabashedly and clamping her thighs around Ben’s head as she soaks his fingers and chin in her release. 

As Rey lies there, chest heaving, Ben extricates himself from between her legs and sucks her spend off of his fingers before shucking off his black briefs and sitting on the edge of the bed. He takes himself in hand pumps his engorged length a few times, squeezing the base firmly to try and calm himself down—though he’s not sure if that’s something that’s truly possible right now. 

He takes a moment to look at Rey properly as he does it, and ends up coming to the conclusion that he’s got, quite possibly, the most beautiful woman that’s ever walked the earth in his bed. She’s still wearing her ruined underwear, and her chest is glistening with sweat, and she’s the most perfect sight Ben has ever seen. 

He feels a little bubble of pride race up his throat as he regards her. Some part of him that’s primal and ugly tells him that she belongs here, in his bed, and that she shouldn’t ever be allowed to leave. It’s the same voice from the living room, possessive and badly tempered. 

He shuts the thoughts out as Rey pushes herself up onto her elbows to meet his gaze.

“ _Putain_ , tu es formidable.” She sighs. 

Ben understands that one, or at least the complimentary tone, and tries not to let it get to his head; which is a fairly unsuccessful endeavour. He smiles broadly as she becons him in with a hand, settling himself over her body and kissing her sweetly. Rey, apparently, is not a fan of that because she pushes her tongue into his mouth despite the fact that he’s sure he still tastes like her. Ben finds that way hotter than he probably should and his cock twitches persistently against her thigh. 

Rey squirms under him as she tries unsuccessfully to wiggle out of her panties. So Ben—ever the gentleman—helps her out, pulling them down so that she can kick them off the end of the bed. She then guides his hand down to her center and Ben gets the hint, sliding two fingers easily back into her. She groans into his mouth as he thumbs her clit gently before pulling her face back and away from his.

“I want you.” It’s the clearest English she’s ever spoken to him.

He wants her too, probably more than he’s ever wanted anyone, but there’s a little bit of an issue. The closest thing that Ben's got to a condom in his apartment is the box of sandwich bags in his kitchen cupboard, and for some reason he doesn’t feel like the two are interchangeable. 

“Je n’ai pas une, uh, condom?” Condom, _condom_ , why don’t they teach the fucking word for condom on Duolingo?

Rey frowns at him and shakes her head slowly. 

“Fuck, shit, uh,” he pulls his fingers out of her cunt, rolling off of her. He’s gonna need his hands for this one. Under her watchful gaze he performs possibly the worst miming display of putting on a condom that the world has ever seen. 

“Ah!” Rey says breaking out into a fit of laughter, “Préservatif! Ça va, je suis sous pilule contraceptive.” 

Ben frowns, he hears contraceptive, but is still generally unsure what she’s talking about.

So Rey, in turn, exaggeratedly mimes out taking pills until it clicks. 

“Oh, the pill, _sweet_.” He’s suddenly glad she can’t understand him because that was probably not the exact right thing to say.

Ben hesitates for a moment before he fits himself back on top of her, taking a moment to marvel at how small she is compared to him. He can more than cover her entire body with his and that satisfies him in ways he can’t even begin to understand. 

Rey reaches down the length of his body again, this time to line up the tip of his cock with the heat between her legs. Ben tries to remember to breathe as she guides his firm tip into her hot cunt. He presses his forehead against hers as he slots himself slowly inside of her and grinds his teeth as she clenches experimentally down on him, spreading her legs. 

She soothes encouraging circles into his scalp as he pumps into her, using one arm to prop himself up and the other to feel down her body. Rey wraps both of her legs around the backs of his and tightens her hand his hair as he finds her clit. 

“Merde,” she swears, her warms breath fanning over his face. 

“D’accord?” Ben asks.

Rey nods, pulling him in deeper as she flexes her feet against his legs. She shutters as stills, fully inside of her. “Tu est énorme.”

Ben bites his lip, circling her clit with his thumb. While he knows that he’s above average size wise it is nice to hear it once in a while. 

As he begins to thrust into her in earnest she reclaims his mouth, sucking on his full bottom lip and stroking the sides of his face with her thumbs. Her pussy is exquisite, hot and yielding around him, but that’s not what likes best about their coupling.

His favourite part is the feeling of her skin pressed to his, the way her nipples rub against his chest, and her insistent tongue in his mouth. A million little feelings that remind him that she’s real and that he’s not alone anymore. He has to bury his face in her jasmine scented hair to hide the tears he blinks back as he's flooded with the feeling of being _wanted_. 

Rey pulls him out of thoughts by sucking a hickey into the skin of his neck, sealing it with a breathy moan as he delivers a particularly hard thrust that sends her nails skittering down his back. He can feel the telltale tightening in his balls that he’s close, and redoubles his attentions on her, rutting faster as her flicks at her clit. 

For the second time tonight he’s thankful for his loneliness because he’s sure he wouldn’t be the shape he’s in now if it weren’t for all of his alone time. He’s built himself up in France thanks to hours in the gym and if not for that there’s no way he’d be able to support himself over her for this long. 

Rey clenches around him again and again as she digs her nails into the meat of his shoulders and Ben can tell that she’s near the edge when she spasms up into him. His wrist strains at the new angle as he toys with her clit but he knows that there’s no letting up now. After a few more moments Ben feels her stomach muscles jump under the palm of his hand as she cries out before her cunt tightens like a vise around his cock. 

He stills over her, unable to move for a moment with how tightly she’s clenched around him before she relaxes. She blinks up at him lazily as she comes back to herself and reaches down to massage his balls with one of her small hands. 

And, _oh_ , that’s what he’s been missing. He pumps into her with renewed vigour, huffing out breaths as Rey adjusts her fingers to stroke the skin behind his balls. Ben jerks into her wildly with one final thrust as he paints the insides of her yielding walls with his spend, balls tightening. He keeps himself seated inside of her as her greedy cunt milks the remaining cum out of him breathing out a litany of curses against her lips. 

It takes him a moment to catch his breath as all the muscles in his body tremor chaotically before he rolls off of her and collapses into a heaving mess on the bed, spent. 

Rey reaches out to stroke his sweaty hair as she cuddles up to him, throwing one of her legs over his, and for the first time in seven months Ben falls asleep with his arms wrapped around a person instead of a pillow. 

She's gone by the time he wakes. 

Instead of a warm body there's just an empty dip in his mattress where she should be.

At first Ben thinks that it’s a mistake, or tells himself that it is at least, she’s got to be in the kitchen helping herself to his food, or in the bathroom freshening up. Because she can’t really be gone, can she? Just up and left? No word, no note?

Groggily, he checks and re-checks all of the rooms in his small apartment. He has to swallow down the bile that rises up violently in his throat as he’s faced with the fact that all that remains of her is the smell of jasmine on his sheets.

Naked in the middle of his living room Ben crumples. He folds himself down into the smallest ball he can manage and wraps his arms tightly around his shins as blood rushes through his ears. He tries to listen to the sounds of his breathing in an effort to calm himself down, but the stones in his chest are clattering too loudly for him to hear it. 

As his body is wracked with ugly sobs the only thing he can think of is that he’s alone again, that he has no one, nobody.

_Nobody, nobody, nobody, nobody._

**Author's Note:**

> Unrealistic for a plethora of reasons, not the least of which is that there’s no way Rey, who works in _customer service_ , would stay late at work—regardless of how badly she wanted to smash. 
> 
> Also I need to give [Moongrim](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moongrim/pseuds/Moongrim) a _huge_ shoutout for taking the time to correct my very medium French in this fic, merci beaucoup, I am so grateful to you! That being said, any mistakes left are completely my own.
> 
> Also also, if you want to yell at me for this ending you can do it on Twitter now [@epne_](https://twitter.com/epne_).


End file.
